


100% Hammered

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You were seriously hammered. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you drunk. Can’t say that I’m surprised that you turned out to be the jealous, stripping inclined kind of drunk.”</p><p> </p><p>With a pained groan, Derek covers his eyes in hopes that this new headache can magically go away. “Jesus.” He complains to no one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	100% Hammered

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by this TFLN post ](http://teamsciles.tumblr.com/post/55879209985)
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> Explanation of mild dub con tag explained in the end

When Derek wakes up, he immediately wishes that he was asleep again. If he was to describe the pounding in his head as a ‘migraine’, it would be like describing space as ‘kind of big’. It’s going to be one  _hell_ of an understatement, is the point he’s trying to make. Derek wonders why the lights are so bright and why his head hurting so badly. He’s a werewolf, God dammit! He doesn’t  _get_ headaches in the first place so why is his head hurting so bad?

 

Smacking his lips, Derek realizes that not only is his mouth dry but it also tastes like… he’s at a loss to describe the utterly rancid flavor actually. He groans, bringing a heavy hand up to rub his throbbing skull. Squinting through one barely opened eye, Derek is thankful to note that at least he’s in his loft. Small blessings.

 

A tiny wriggle tells him that he’s in his own bed (And that he’s naked. Nothing out of the ordinary there), or someone made a nest of blankets on the couch and dumped him in it.  It could be either at this point. Presently he doesn’t have the strength to turn his head to the side to check his exact position either. He's far too comfortable to bother about it.

 

There’s a quiet clattering coming from somewhere close - it sounds like someone’s taking a hammer to the pots and pans. Derek can’t stop himself from growling. Everything sounds too loud and it just  _hurts_ _._ What the  _fuck_ had happened?

 

Covering his eyes with a hot palm, Derek tries to think back. He’d been at home with Peter and Cora when Scott, Isaac and Stiles had come over, bottle of Jack in hand. Stiles had asked if there was some way to get werewolves drunk because it was no fun being the only person drunk in a group and that getting drunk was part of the true college experience.

 

Derek had stared at them and wondered if it would be irresponsible of him to say, yes there was because that would lead to them wanting to know how. But Peter had been two steps ahead of him, walking away and coming back with two bottles and glasses in tow with a wicked grin on his face.

 

 _'Then…'_ , Derek frowns into his hand. They’d drank a lot… Isaac had fallen off the couch while reaching for chips that resulted in Scott and Stiles giggling to the point of falling down as well. He could remember agreeing to go a bar…

 

And nothing after that. 

 

Whoever else is in the apartment with him walks out of the kitchen area and pads towards him. If Derek has to make a guess, he’s going to guess that it’s Stiles. Peter and Cora’s steps are barely discernible. Same as Isaac. Scott’s tread isn’t half as heavy as Stiles and Stiles walks with ease and a heavy step. “Morning.” Yep, that’s Stiles.

 

Derek pulls his hand down just enough so that he can look up at Stiles. “You look like shit.” He grunts out, eyeing the mug that the teenager is holding in his hands. Derek can just barely catch a glimpse of pale fingers holding the steaming mug because the long sleeved shirt is covering Stiles’ hands. It looks too familiar actually. “Is that my shirt?”

 

Stiles sits down next to him on the bed, giving Derek an unamused grin. The aromatic smell of coffee wafts down to him. It just the motivation he needs to sit up in, ah so he was in his bed. And still naked. Where the hell is his underwear?

 

“Good morning to you too.” Stiles replies in a hoarse tone. “I’d ask how you’re doing but I can see you’re in your Grump Mode.”

 

Derek holds his hand out for the mug, making a ‘hand it over’ gesture with his fingers. The teenager narrows his eyes at Derek’s hand before he takes a pointed sip and passes the mug over. The werewolf takes a long appreciative sniff of the liquid before taking a sip. “Got a hangover?” Stiles asks. “It’d be really unfair if you guys get to skip hangovers after getting shit faced.”

 

Glaring over the rim, Derek takes another sip and holds the mug out. Stiles makes a happy noise as he accepts. “It’ll go away in an hour.” Derek quietly adds a ‘I hope’ to the end of that. That’s how long it had taken the last time he’d drunk this much but he hopes that the coffee will chase the headache away faster.

 

He wonders idly where Peter and Cora are, not to mention Scott and Isaac. “Where are the others?” He asks, tentatively stretching his senses to see if he can hear anyone else. He hears nothing but Stiles’ heartbeat thump-a-thumping away within arm’s reach.

 

Speaking of. There’s a wicked amused glint in Stiles eyes that makes Derek immediately feel wary. “You think they’d be here after you sexiled em?”

 

Derek chokes on his own spit, staring in bewilderment at the teenager. 

 

 _Sexiled_?

 

 

But.

 

That.

 

“What?!” Derek hisses out, checking the bed and the area around it for any signs of a stranger. There’s nothing there - not even a scent! - that implies that there was anyone there! No one except him and…

 

Stiles.

 

His head snaps back towards Stiles, inhaling sharply because Derek needs to know that he didn’t do anything supremely stupid last night when he was so damned drunk. As it turns out, trying to sniff out any signs is unnecessary because Stiles reaches up to scratch at his neck and Derek catches sight of a  _huge_ hickey at the nape of Stiles’ neck.  _How_ had he missed  _that_?

 

Horror (and a sharp, possessive,  _pleased_ 'good' curls through his gut) when the small scratching motion makes the shirt collar dip to the side to reveal more hickeys and marks. That along with their scents mingling together ( _Jesus!_ _How_ did he miss that while waking up?!), there’s no doubt what they’d done last night.

 

"Breathe." Stiles offers casually, holding the mug out. Derek stares harder at how  _calm_ Stiles is because he wants to… to… do  _something_ instead of just sit there and drink coffee! “I hear that helps.” 

 

The snarky addition makes Derek reach out and grab Stiles’ wrist. “What the hell happened last night?” And before the teenager can give him a sarcastic reply, Derek glares at him and adds on, “And no stupid comments.” _  
_

 

Stiles rolls his eyes, like Derek’s being unreasonable. “Long story short? We all got really drunk, went to a bar and got even more drunk, danced. Then I think you got jealous that I was dancing with other people so you dragged me away saying “How could you not want to hook up with me when I have these abs?” And then you ripped your shirt off in the middle of the bar.”

 

Derek wants someone, anyone, to come wake him up now because this sounds worse than his worst nightmare. This is the very _last_ way he'd ever wanted Stiles to know about his attraction towards him. Stiles lightly shakes the mug under Derek’s nose, like it’s no concern of his that he’s caused Derek’s brain to shut down. “You were  _seriously_ hammered. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you drunk. Can’t say that I’m surprised that you turned out to be the jealous, stripping inclined kind of drunk.”

 

With a pained groan, Derek covers his eyes in hopes that this  _new_ headache can magically go away. “ _Jesus_.” He complains to no one. 

 

"It wasn’t that bad." Stiles continues. Derek can  _hear_ the grin in his voice,  _Christ!_ "I mean, besides the impromptu strip show. I think some ladies actually stuffed some money into your jeans when you were dragging me out the bar saying that you were going to, and i quote "fuck me so hard that I’d see stars"."

 

And  _this_ is why Derek  _doesn’t_ drink! His mouth _always_ got the better of him. With another groan, Derek let gravity take him and plopped back on the bed. If he had been 5 years younger, he’d have stuffed his head under the nearest pillow and pretended that Stiles wasn’t next to him. This was a  _nightmare._

 

"I think I saw the entire Milky Way." The dreamy tone in which Stiles says that, makes Derek crack his eyes open and give the teenager a contemplative look. He’s seen the teenager look happy several times - post the midnight viewing of Avengers 2, getting his acceptance letter from Berkeley, a week after having sex for the first time. 

 

And they all are paleing against the sight in front of him. Derek wonders if maybe the drinking plus sex combination has somehow rattled a filter out of place in his brain because he’s know Stiles for what? Three long years? And never before has the sight of Stiles looking so… so… soft around the edges - warm with happiness - has made Derek  _feel_.

 

The pleased throb from before makes itself known again, spreading out from its roots in the pit of his stomach until it’s gone up, up, up to rest against his heart. Derek licks his lips, unexplainably nervous when he replies. “I keep my word.”

 

Stiles snorts, spitting some of the coffee back into the mug before he chortles. “Oh my  _God_!” He pushes out between his laughter. “I didn’t think you’d  _say that_!” Derek feels his lips twitching up, mirroring the amusement that’s pouring off Stiles. “Thank you for being a man of your word.” Stiles continues in a mock serious tone, toasting Derek with the mug.

 

With an amused huff, Derek pushes himself up. The pounding in his head as regressed to the point that he can ignore it. It’s easy to do when all he wants to focus on is Stiles because this is a side of him that Derek’s never seen before.

 

The loose limbs, sex-bed hair, relaxed smile - Derek wants to categorize every little detail and then go looking for more. He especially wants to match up what he knows with what he doesn’t know. He knows so many of Stiles’ expressions but this fond exasperation mingled with amusement is… it’s curious. The good kind of curious.

 

As his feet hit the ground, Derek pretends that he hasn’t on purpose moved just so that their thighs are now touching. “Staying for breakfast?” He asks, making sure that the sheets are covering his lap. 

 

"Depends on what you’re making." Stiles answers easily, toes curling against the floor before he knocks their ankles together shyly. There’s another twitch from his lips as they try not to smile down. "I feel like waffles. Or french toast. Something sweet."

 

Nodding, Derek makes another effort to locate his underwear or just his pants. But there’s nothing to be found in the region around his bed. And the dresser is on the other side of the bed which means that he’ll have to get up and walk over there. Either naked or with the sheets wrapped around him. With a small sigh, Derek stands up with his hands tugging the sheets around him. “Lemme get some pants on.” _  
_

 

Stiles’ lips twist up in a seriously wicked smirk that makes his dick twitch with interest. Derek gets the sneaky suspicion that he might be well and truly  _fucked_. “Why bother?” Stiles asks, putting the almost empty mug down on the floor before he reaches out to teasingly pull on the thin fabric. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.” Derek’s throat goes dry as he watches Stiles’ fingers try to work their way through the folds. “Or touched. Or kissed. Or-“

 

"I get it." Derek cuts him off, feeling a tiny bit embarrassed because of how quickly he’s starting to get hard. "You’re such a menace."

 

Stiles grins, unbashed and broad. “You already knew that.” He sing songs, continuing to tug on the sheets until Derek is forced to take a step forward or risk the material falling down. “You said that’s what you liked about me.”

 

Like he said before. Him and his damn loose lips when he’s drunk. Derek tries not to look as flustered as he feels when he wonders what else he’s babbled on about. It’s not like he’s in love with Stiles or anything! It's _just_ an attraction! But there is the fact that he’s got a bit of a soft spot for the 19 year old. Has had it for a while too. And the way that Stiles can sometimes be a little shit _is_ something that he’s found… charming? Amusing? Relatable?

 

"Well I don’t like you right now." Derek growls, flashing his eyes at Stiles in the hopes of startling the other man but nothing. Stiles just grins away and whoa! When had his fingers managed to worm their way in? Rough but gentle fingertips curl around his hip, stroking the skin there so lightly that Derek shivers.

 

Stiles hums, tilts his head and stares at Derek’s abs. “I’ve wanted to hook up with you and your abs for a while now.” There’s a non-sequitur if Derek’s ever heard one, even after you take into account that this is Stiles. “And by a while I mean ever since I found out that you swing both ways too. So forgive me if I just… want to savor the moment.”

 

That’s… unexpectedly tender? Derek doesn’t even have the words to explain what the quiet admission is making him feel - beyond totally overwhelmed and a whole lot of happy-fond-pleased-glad. “You could… savor it later too?” Derek clumsily offers, not sure how he can say (in the shortest and most indirect way possible) that Stiles is welcome to stay for as long as he wants and is welcome back at any time as well.

 

When Stiles glances up, Derek swears that time stops or slows down for a few seconds because he can suddenly make out the thick sweep of Stiles’ lashes. It’s like he can make out every single hair that sweeps teasingly past a pink cheek before rising up. He gets lost in the warm brown of Stiles’ eyes, brain frantically looking for a suitable comparison for the exact shade. Derek comes up blank.

 

"After breakfast you mean?" Stiles asks, doubt flickering behind the playful look in his eyes. His throat is too dry and his brain struck dumb to compose a reply so Derek just nods and presses his hand on top of Stiles through the sheets. He manages to get a hand around Stiles’ wrist and gives it a tight squeeze. 

 

The smile that he gets for it is  _blinding_. The sun’s light pales in comparison to how bright Stiles looks when he’s completely and utterly  _happy_. And  _Derek_ is the one responsible for it. “C’mon.” Stiles says, pushing himself up to his feet. The tips of their noses brush together and Derek can smell the coffee on Stiles’ breath when he murmurs, “Lets get cooking.”

 

"Clothes." Derek reminds him firmly, taking a step forward and away from Stiles. He’s a little surprised when Stiles lets him go and pretends that he didn’t shiver when he feels the other man’s fingers slide off him. Derek steps towards the dresser and thinks that that was too easy. 

 

Sure enough, he feels a hard tug from behind that pulls the sheets out of his grasp to puddle on the floor as though they’re embarrassed for him. Derek whips around with a glare directed at Stiles’ innocent face. “Oops.” He offers glibly, eyes ticking down to Derek’s now naked hips before grinning. “Sorry bout that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mild dub con tag because Derek's drunk as hell when they have sex
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> [tumblr](http://candypinkcocks.tumblr.com)


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